


All the Delights of Lost-hope

by Griselda_Gimpel



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griselda_Gimpel/pseuds/Griselda_Gimpel
Summary: The Nameless King of Lost-hope seeks the advice of one of his subjects in planning a celebration.
Relationships: Stephen Black/OC
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6
Collections: JoyFest 2020





	All the Delights of Lost-hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [longwhitecoats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/longwhitecoats/gifts).



> By darn it, the Nameless King deserves a fairy boyfriend who treats him right!

The Nameless King of Lost-hope, who’d once been called Stephen Black, took his responsibilities seriously, and that gladdened the Fairy Among the Bluebells. The old king of Lost-hope had once tasked the Fairy Among the Bluebells with caring for the bluebell plot, but the old king had, after a week or two, entirely forgotten that he had done so. When the old king wished for there to be a dance, he’d order all of the bluebells plucked for centerpieces, leaving the Fairy Among the Bluebells with naught but stems to care for. When there was to be an execution, the old king would insist the chopping block be constructed in the bluebells plot, and afterward the Fairy Among the Bluebells would have to nourish the sun-starved flowers back to health. And there had been many a parade at the behest of the old king that had left the Fairy Among the Bluebells struggling to repair broken flora.

It was in the aftermath of one such parade that the Fairy Among the Bluebells first met the man who’d later become the new king of Lost-hope. In the midst of the revelry, as the old king crowed of past victories and the Fairy Among the Bluebells struggled to salvage as many sad flowers as he could, he looked up to find the old king’s most honored guest kneeling down to help him.

“How do we fix them?” the future king asked.

“You’ve just got to be kind to them,” the Fairy Among the Bluebells whispered back. He was quite nervous about talking to a guest of such importance, particularly one so clearly favored by the king. The Fairy Among the Bluebells was rather young (by fairy standards) and regarded by the king as not terribly important.

The Fairy Among the Bluebells daringly laid his hand over the future king’s, and the flowers beneath them straightened and flourished. The Fairy Among the Bluebells smiled shyly at the future king, and then the old king whined, “Stephen! Stephen! You must come watch the fencing match!”

“Yes, sir,” the future king answered resignedly and left.

That was the situation for a decade. The old king would monopolize the future king’s time and attention. The Fairy Among the Bluebells would tend to his flowers and sigh longingly from a distance. So it went. So it seemed it would always go, until the day the old king died.

All the fairies in Lost-hope felt it, the way they knew instantly who the new king would be. The news was in the drip of the bluebells and the reflection of the morning dew on the petals. For the Fairy Among the Bluebells, it was like a whirlwind had come upon him, as his flower patch multiplied and grew rapidly before his delighted eyes. Then the Nameless King, having cast away his name, took the throne, and suddenly things were better.

The morning after he came to Lost-hope to stay, the Nameless King visited the Fairy Among the Bluebells and asked after the health of his flowers.

“They grow wonderfully in your presence, my liege,” said the Fairy Among the Bluebells.

“Very good,” said the Nameless King, and he continued the inspection of his grounds.

It was only after the Nameless King had walked away and was inquiring as to the health of the beehives that the Fairy Among the Bluebells whispered, “Your beauty inspires them, O Beloved King.”

\---

The Nameless King toiled long and hard in the care of his new kingdom. He delegated tasks and provided instructions. The sheets all needed to be washed, the beds needed to be turned down, the windows needed to be wiped, the floors needed to be swept, and all of the grounds needed to be weeded. Well, except for the bluebells plot. The handsome fairy who tended it took care of those without needing to be prodded to do so.

As time passed, the kingdom of Lost-hope slowly came to order. The Nameless King had learned many years prior in his work as a butler that chores take less time if they are done regularly than if one puts them off and off until they become a huge ordeal. This proved true once more with the management of Lost-hope, and the Nameless King and his subjects found themselves with free time.

The question then came to the Nameless King’s mind as to what to do with it. He did not wish for Lost-hope to return to the wild days of debauchery and sloth that had once defined it. Nor did the entertainments of the Gentleman With the Thistledown Hair appeal to him. But perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to have the occasional small celebration. Such affairs would encourage his subjects in their duties and would be thus a force for good.

Desiring a second opinion, he decided to seek out the Fairy Among the Bluebells. They had not spoken much since the Nameless King had come to Lost-hope to stay, as the Fairy Among the Bluebells tended to his task with little need for correction, but it was for this reason that the Nameless King sought him out. He seemed a rather sensible sort, and the Nameless King thought he might have good advice to provide.

The Nameless King found the Fairy Among the Bluebells crouched down among his flowers, holding a vial under the petal of one of the plants. There was a drop of dew on the petal, and as it slowly rolled down off the petal, the Fairy Among the Bluebells caught it in the vial.

“What’s that you are doing?”

The Fairy Among the Bluebells started, jerking up and backward. He fumbled the vial, dropping it with one hand before barely catching it with the other. He tumbled backward and barely missed sitting on one of his plants.

“My king,” the Fairy Among the bluebells gasped, his face going beet red.

“I did not mean to startle you,” the Nameless King said. He held out a hand and helped the Fairy Among the Bluebells to his feet.

“Thank you, sire,” the Fairy Among the Bluebells said. He looked at the vial in his other hand, as if surprised that he still had it. “Oh, thank goodness. I’d thought I’d lost it.” He held up the half-filled vial for the Nameless King to see. “’Tis morning dew. Have you had any since coming here?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Then you must try it,” the Fairy Among the Bluebells insisted. “It’s a delicacy deserving to be tasted by a king.” He held out the vial, and the Nameless King took it. Raising it to his lips, he tried a sip.

His eyes shot wide as the taste hit his tongue. All of the food he had tasted in Lost-hope had been of what he’d thought to be the finest quality, but the morning dew was positively intoxicating. It didn’t taste of flavors; it tasted of experiences. The paramount of the flurry of illusive memories that suddenly overpowered the Nameless King was that of being held tightly by a loved one. It had been a dreadfully long time since the Nameless King had felt that. Underneath that was the sensation of warm summer days, and there was just a hint of leisurely baths.

“I’ve never tasted anything like this before.”

The Fairy Among the Bluebells smiled at him, equal parts pride and shyness. “Morning dew is special, sire.”

The Nameless King took another sip, letting the liquid swirl in his mouth before swallowing, allowing the feelings the drink brought to linger. Then he held out the remainder to the Fairy Among the Bluebells, who took it hesitantly. “Please, I insist.”

The Fairy Among the Bluebells brought the vial to his lips and drank deeply, a look of bliss crossing his face after he had done so. “A drink shared is a drink twice enjoyed,” he said when he had finished. “To what pleasure do I owe this visit, my king?”

“I have contemplated perhaps holding a small celebration and sought to inquire if you had any suggestions.”

The Fairy Among the Bluebells thought for a moment and then ventured, “In truth, my king, it has been some time since we’ve held a dance at the Isle of the Caroling Trees.”

“The Isle of Caroling Trees?”

“Yes. You have not visited there, I do not think. I myself have not been since my early days, when the old king did not rage quite so much. It is located at the center of the Lake of Lightning.”

“Surely we cannot go there, then. For I have been walking on the shore of the Lake of Lightning arm in arm with the former king. The currents that form in place of the waters are impassible. There are wrecked boats strewn upon the shore. My predecessor raged greatly that it was so, but nothing he could do would calm the electric waters.”

“It is so no more,” the Fairy Among the Bluebells eagerly informed him. “A gentle king makes for a gentle lake. We should go there tonight when the moon is rising, and I will show you the Isle.”

“Very well. I will seek you after dinner. Until then, I bid you a good day.”

\---

The Nameless King found the Fairy Among the Bluebells waiting for him after they had finished their meal. Together, they walked down the path toward the Lake of Lightning. The Nameless King saw, out of the corner of his eye, the fingers of the hand of Fairy Among the Bluebells that was closest to him twitch, as if he thought to clutch something. But when the Fairy Among the Bluebells saw the Nameless King looking at him, he jerked his hand back to his chest and looked at the ground. They had reached the Lake of Lightning then, and the Nameless King was distracted by the sight. He had not been to the shores since taking the throne, and the currents that swirled in place of water indeed had calmed.

“The boats are all still dashed,” the Nameless King observed. He gave his companion a long, lingering look. “I suppose we shall have to swim.”

“Yes, my king,” the Fairy Among the Bluebells muttered and then went scarlet as the Nameless King took of his jacket. The Fairy Among the Bluebells pointedly looked away and finished undressing while intently observing a vine that curled around the trunk of a tree. When they had finished, they hung their clothes on tree limbs that obediently lowered themselves to the task.

The electric currents were a pleasant tingle against the skin of the Nameless King as he swam, and he had to expend little effort to reach his destination. The currents obediently turned and flowed in the direction he was heading, carrying him along. The Nameless King rolled onto his back for the remainder of the journey. Behind him, the Fairy Among the Bluebells gasped, causing him to almost swallow a mouthful of electricity. He sputtered and spit the sparks out, where they danced across the surface in a miniature light show.

When they reached the banks, they sat next to each other, more to enjoy the lap of the tame lightning against their feet than to recover their strength. The Nameless King cast his companion a sidelong glanced.

“How do you care for you king?” he asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

“Immensely,” the Fairy Among the Bluebells replied. Then, screwing up his courage, he said, “I would much enjoying dancing with him in the moonlight.”

“Here, on the banks?”

The Fairy Among the Bluebells shook his head. “There’s a grove in the center of the isle. There we may hear the trees sing as we dance.”

He stood up and then held out a hand, helping his king to his feet. Hand in hand, guided only by the light of the moon and the stars, the Fairy Among the Bluebells led the Nameless King to the center of the isle. After a short walk, they reached their destination and found themselves in a gentle clearing. The ground was level and covered with soft grass.

The boundaries of the circle were marked by rings of birch trees, their bark glowing whitely in the night. They were almost dizzying to look at, and they provoked a sense of euphoria in all who entered. As the Nameless King tread through, the wind whistling through their trunks seemed to whisper, _Welcome, our king._

Then, as the Fairy Among the Bluebells led the Nameless King into the first steps of the dance, the trees began to sing. The sound came from high in the broughs, and all of the craning of the Nameless King’s neck did not bring the source into view in the dim light. He soon forsook his efforts and focused on the dance. It was a fairy dance, one he had danced many times in the halls of Lost-hope during his predecessor’s reign, but like so many things, it had changed. The steps were less frenetic, the undertone of bloodthirst was gone. It was still a breathtaking dance, but now it spoke of the feel of moonlight on one’s skin during the night, the taste of wild berries found in a hidden grove, and the devotion of a new love.

When the song concluded, the Fairy Among the Bluebells released the Nameless King. He went to the edge of the circle, where a berry bush now stood, although the Nameless King knew with certainty that it had not been there when they had first arrived and had sprung into being during the course of their dance. The Fairy Among the Bluebells picked several of the berries and brought them to the Nameless King.

“Refreshments, my liege?”

“I am most grateful,” the Nameless King said, taking one and putting it in his mouth. “Delicious,” he declared after he had swallowed.

“I am most enchanted by you,” the Fairy Among the Bluebells said softly.

The Nameless King raised a hand and cupped the cheek of the Fairy Among the Bluebells. “And I have had a most pleasant evening and hope to spend others in your company.” He glanced around at the circle. “This will be a most excellent setting for a dance. It is decided. I will make the announcement in the morning. You have my gratitude for showing it to me, as well as for this evening.”

Hand in hand, the two left the grove. They passed through the birch trees and returned to the shore. The currents of the lake carried them across, where they retrieved their clothing and strolled to the manor, hands once more clasped. Yes, much had been decided that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Bathing suits for men hadn't been invented yet. I looked it up.


End file.
